Over breakfast of now mostly cold chocolate chip pancakes and caviar (with Maxxie the little health nut having his usual strained, low salt tomato juice and egg white-only veggie omelette), we talk. And I have to say, I'm so frigging relieved it hasn't changed things, all this bloody love business – that it hasn't robbed us of just being mates.
"So," he says, as I guzzle down my chocolate marshmallow milk, "I have to ask. When did you first know ?"
My eyes raise.
"Know ?"
"How you felt, Tone."
"'Bout what ?" I ask, cheekily.
"The weather. What do you think, arsehole ?"
"Oh, that." I say, cutting though the stack of pancakes with the side of my fork, just to annoy him. ("Use a bloody knife, cretin !") "Shit," I continue. "That's easy. I can tell you the exact day."
"No you can't," he snorts.
"Yes I can. Or maybe not day, but moment. We were at your house. We were discussing monks, remember ?"
"Of course, Tony." He says dryly. "Like it was yesterday."
"Fuck off. This was only 4 months ago."
He stops cold.
"You told me 3 !"
I grin.
"Well, I may've been off in my calculations a bit, here and there."
"Jesus," he says, looking off in disbelief, "you've been in love with me all this time-"
"-Shut up. Let me tell the goddamn story. I was at your place talking about monks' clothing and haircuts and shit, pretending I wanted to become one, so convinced was I that I would never get my manhood back."
"'Manhood'," he says laughing at my word choice, half choking on his food. "You stupid arsehole."
"And anyway, you were ignoring me, as usual, so then I wanted to annoy you to make you pay attention – which always works, by the way, so I hit you with the usual Russia/cocksucking question-"
His face lights up.
"-Oh ! I remember this !"
Christ, he's such a gayboy.
"Guess I said the magic word ?"
"Fuck off. No, I do ! Because we were in hysterics, remember ? I nearly pissed myself. And if I'm not mistaken, that was when I leaned over at some point, and -"
"-Kissed me dead on the lips, yes. Which you'd never done before, or I would've decked you."
"Yes, so what the hell happened, then ? How on earth did this become your moment ?"
I shrug.
"Fuck if I know. Proverbial bolt outta the blue. Just a peck, really, but it totally did the trick."
"Well I certainly didn't mean anything by it. It was just spontaneous."
"Ya, I know. But for some reason it was like, the dividing line, or whatever. Couldn't see straight after that. Totally harrowing experience."
"Thanks, Tone."
"It's true ! For a straightboy it was harrowing."
"All I remember is you were weird for a long while after that. I kept kicking myself, because in my mind, what I'd done had so obviously made you uncomfortable just to be around me – that's what I thought all the awkwardness was about."
"Nope !" I grin like an arse.
"Which, y'know, was highly inconvenient, seeing as I was your full time bloody nurse."
"Ya, well, whatever. It was your frigging fault."
"So then what happened ? What was going through your mind ?"
"Just .. fuck. Confusion. Fear, for sure. Y'know ... bewilderment. Totally threw me for a loop. Couldn't right myself, that was the scariest thing."
"Specifics, though, Tone. What did you think was going on ?"
"I didn't know, Max. I was in an anxiety-stupor half the time, spending all my energy trying to extinguish this bizarro crush thing – that's what I thought it was. Some inexplicable crush brought on by excess cumulative stress due to my screwed up head, or sexual deprivation, probably, or too much time in the presence of a gayboy. I gave it every name in the book."
"I bet."
"First few weeks were the worst-"
"-Wait. You didn't actually think it was caused by exposure to me ... ?"
"Maxxie, don't take any of this personally, fuck's sake. I was scrambling round in a panic, desperate for answers. Every five minutes I had a different explanation. I'm sure I would loved to have blamed it on you, if I could've, but I ruled that one out pretty quick."
He grins. "Of course, I am rather fetching ..."
"Shut up. Anyway, it sucked at first, especially - couldn't look you in the eye. I was too afraid you'd, like, see. Then when I did look you in the eye, I mean, could you see anything ?"
"All I remember was you acting weird. Not yourself. You were nervous and tense and then you'd be all giggly and shit."
I nod, wolfing down the last of the bacon.
"Yup, ran the bloody gamut. But then, I have to say, for a brief while I had sort of got it under control, which was like, phew ! I mean, it never went away completely, but I slowly got better at managing it, that's what it was, because, I mean, otherwise I was gonna lose my frigging skull. You have no idea what I went through, Max. And then fucking Bill has to come along ..."
.
I wince at the sound of his name, suddenly acutely aware that the poor man had been right all along; that I'd been unknowingly and unintentionally using him, thoroughly decent bloke that he was, as a Tony substitute.
"What about him ?" I ask innocently, though I think I know the answer.
"What about him ?" he says with sarcasm, "you tell me, Max."
I go to open my mouth but he cuts me off.
"Fucking hated his guts, every time I saw him with you, every time I thought about it."
Good Christ ! Out it frigging comes !
"Tony ! Shit !"
"I know. I know it wasn't his fault. I know he wasn't a bad guy, and all that. It was just jealousy, plain and simple. We were both in love with you."
I put my down fork with a clink. God, I can't really be hearing this.
He looks.
"What ?"
"Waddayu mean, 'what' ? Christ. How am I supposed to take this in ? Any of it ? It's just ..." I sigh. "Absolutely unbelieveable."
He reaches for my hand, and speaks softly.
"I know." He looks over at me. "You still have time to go back to him, y'know."
My neck snaps.
"What ? ? What are you talking about ? !"
He shrugs. He half grins.
"You don't know this, but I was actually planning it. When we got back from this trip, I was gonna try and get you and he back together."
I look at him, flabbergasted.
"But why ? If you hated him so much ?"
He shrugs.
"Cuz. What did it matter what I thought, Max ? He was your boyfriend and I felt guilty cuz he was good for you, Mr Perfect and shit, and I was obviously in the way. You've done all this innumerable stuff for me the last year, and ..." He sighs. His eyes focus. "Tell me the truth. I was semi-responsible for you guys splitting, right ?"
Christ ! How can he ... ! ? I look at him, speechless.
"Knew it." He says.
"Tony it's ..." I sigh. "I didn't love him. That's really what it came down to."
"He would've been better for you than me," he deadpans.
Sweet Jesus, the things he is unafraid of saying, at times.
"Don't be an arse, Tone. That's not true. You're amazing and I love you to pieces. He was lovely. He was sweet, but I didn't love him at all. I never did. I told you."
"You could've fooled me. For a long time, you couldn't speak a single goddamn sentence without mentioning his name."
I look at him. He's not ... ?
"You're not jealous ? Still, I mean ?"
He shrugs. He seems embarrassed.
"He had you, Max, and he was good in the sack, from what you said, experienced, and like, imaginative and shit, and built like a motherfucker." He grins shy. "What was there to be jealous of ?"
I touch his hand.
"That shit has limited value, Tone. I promise you. It can only take you so far."
He looks at me.
"But, I don't exactly measure up, do I ?"
God, he's just blowing my mind, here.
"Total bollocks, Tone. You're fantastic. Super hot. You'd never even touched a cock before, and last night-"
He shakes his head slowly and smiles in disbelief, the same reaction I got on the beach when I tried to pay him a complement.
"I'm not like the guys in your sketch pad."
I leap right on this.
"You're in my sketch pad !"
"No – I know I am, Max, my face. I'm talking the filthy one-"
"-You're in the filthy one, boy !"
"Huh ?" he squints.
I laugh in delight.
"Remember the latter sketches ? That one tall, slender guy that didn't look like the rest ? Who do you think that was ? !"
His mouth swings open and hangs there.
"You're bullshitting !"
"I'm not !" I laugh.
"But ... shit ! Shit ! There's like a dozen of those ! Fuck ! I had no idea !"
"Of course you didn't ! And it wasn't like I could tell you. And holy shit, was it nerve wracking when you flipped through those right in front of me."
He looks off, mouth still ajar.
I'm so tickled at finally revealing my secret and paying him a humongous complement in the process that I feel a surge of boldness, push my tray aside and move to sit across from him.
"And I have another shocker for you. Wanna know when I realized I didn't love Bill ?"
"When ?"
"The night of my birthday. He said it; he told me he loved me, and instantly I just felt ... flat, inside. Empty. And I was embarrassed for him, and I felt sorry, cuz it was so obvious I didn't feel the same – but I couldn't pretend – I'm a horrid liar, and then you know what he immediately told me ?"
"What, Max ?"
"That I was in love with you."
"Get out."
"I'm serious."
"Bill said that ?"
"Yes. That it was obvious, and that I didn't even realize it myself, which was only partly true. I mean, I knew I had strong feelings for you, for a long time, longer than 4 months, shall we say ..."
He grins, tentatively.
"How long ?"
"More like 10."
"Fuck off !" he shrieks. "No way !"
"It's true ! In the beginning a lot of it was just general stuff from hanging out with you so much and seeing all you were going through - watching you struggle and relearn everything. It was impossible not to be blown away and moved, Tone. But then pretty early on it developed into a rather strong crush, shall we say, because, I mean, you're so goddamn funny and smart and gorgeous."
"Jesus !" he bellows, hand slapping the bed for emphasis. "I'm a stick ! A mangled up string bean ! A babbling freak with a head injury !"
"Yes," I grin, "you're perfect."
"Maxxie, fuck's sake, I'm serious."
"So am I."
"No. Come on, stop it; you could have way better than me. You have had."
I shimmy closer and push aside his tray.
"You're exactly what I want."
He looks at me, dead serious.
"Maxxie. Listen to me. I know you're in love, and all, so you're not seeing straight, but I gotta tell ya. I gotta be honest. You're settling. Total fact."
The more he resists, the more innocent and alluring he becomes.
Which makes it so that I just have to prove him wrong.
I climb up, kick over the tray, sending it crashing to the floor ... "Max !" he shrieks. "What the ! My plate ! My coffee ! All that syrup !" ... and straddle his hips ... "What are you doing ! ?" he asks, startled/giggly ... which is just so fucking hot.
"Exactly what I want," I tell him.
I lean in and hover a moment before planting a single chaste kiss. His lips are sticky-sweet from the syrup.
"That's how I kissed you that day," I whisper, and pull back to look at him. "Right ?"
His eyes are softly shut, mouth pink, and waiting. "Ya," he nods quickly, licking and parting his lips in anticipation.
Fuck.
How is it that 'sexy' can be so potent and present in such a small, subtle gesture ? How is it that I've never seen it before, that it's taken me a lifetime, during which I've worshiped the obvious and the oversized, to be able to recognize it ?
And while we're at it ... How is it that I've bloody well got Tony Stonem simultaneously in love with me, in my bed, and in the palm of my hand ?
I lean close, thread my fingers up into that beautiful morning mess of hair, and, with trembling lips and thundering heart, paint the words against his mouth.
"And this is how I get to kiss you now."
I press forward, licking him open, circling slow, tracing lazy swirling patterns, marking him with tiny catlicks like he's oozing dripping honey ... and he tilts his head and opens wider, letting me all the way in, lips wet and wide, tongue meeting mine, dancing and darting, sucking and suckling like we're sharing hard, sweet candy, and somewhere in the midst, it happens. Tony lets out a breathy, involuntary moan.
Translation: that tastes like more.
Wholly unconnected, is it, with the need he had last night, the fog of desperation he was in, to finally experience release. He's wanting this right now, in and of itself, it appears, wanting it to go on, wherever it may lead.
Which ramps everything up by about a million percent.
Incapable of anything otherwise, I grab him, this achingly innocent, madly sensual being, and thrust my face at his, making rough, demanding swipes of my tongue, and then we're fighting, teeth clicking, devouring each other; ravenous at the scratch of stubble, at the hot slide of soft, slick skin.
.
And then, as the volume is turning up on my body, he pulls off, plunges into my jaw, my neck, dives for my ear, and he's threatening.
"I waited a whole year," he says, voice shaking.
It doesn't click at first. Too busy squirming at the shock of my flesh being repeatedly kiss-bitten ... ear, neck, collar bone ... and then it clicks.
"You said 10 months !"
"I lied," he responds, sliding south and proceeding for the next several minutes to torment and abuse my nipples like they belong to him ... tonguing wide and flat and pointed and flicking ... humming in strong, tickly, vibratory tones ... sucking so hard I can feel it in my toes ... caressing and palming and strumming with splayed fingers ... pinching and twisting and nipping and grazing with his teeth, making me, over and over, gasp and jump in place ...
"A whole year you made me wait ... during which I was meticulous, do you understand ?"
Um, no, Max, but whatever you do, keep talking, I think, as the sensitive flesh here, and below, leaps alive in surprise.
"I never allowed myself to think about you – in that way," he continues, eyes hazy with want, making a brief, fierce return to my mouth, before abandoning it for good. "I never let myself picture you, Tone, while I fucked somebody ..."
Holy motherfucking shit, the images flash: Maxxie, hips a blur, tanned skin sleek with sweat, wildly plowing some random, quivering piece of arse.
"... or when I touched myself."
On no. There is Maxxie, alone and aroused, hand smoothing out the flesh of his cock, face pinched, tongue darting repeatedly, as it did last night.
"I always made sure to call out the right name," he continues, hungrily licking and nipping his way south, "... but all along, it was you."
Gulp. How ... could ... this ... be ... Maxxie ? ! The kid I pal around with, the kid I thought I knew everything about ... and here I've somehow missed it, fact numero uno: that he's the hottest creature walking this earth. That I could've had him all along – this creature that is frying my brains, oozing boiling hot SEX from every pore ... sheer madman with an evil tongue, pointing and darting, now, repeatedly, into my navel ...
"A whole year you made me wait," he hisses, edging further south. "And now I'm gonna make you pay."
Oh my fucking ...GAH ! ... I can't take it anymore ... ! My best mate, talking to me this way ... doing these cruel and evil things so that I'm left half mad, fire winding through my veins, stomach a tight, miserable ball of anxiety and torment ... and he hasn't even touched the aching lump under the sheets ...
Without a word, as if reading my mind, he backs up, lowers himself onto his forearms between my legs, mouth hovering close ... and my breathing stops.
"I'm gonna make you come five times today," he announces to the material, or rather, the thing beneath it.
Before my brain has had a moment to catch up, to even begin to process this truly startling declaration, he hits me with this:
"No, not today, this morning."
"Five ? !" I finally blurt, releasing the pent up air in my lungs. I'm not exactly impotent anymore, but ...
"Five," he says assuredly, raising his eyes to mine, which for the first time ever, I don't recognize. The blue, normally bright and clear, normally cheerful and good natured, having gone dark with sheer, unabashed lust.
Holy blithering shit. No one has ever looked at me like this, threatened me, told me with their eyes and made me KNOW it - that they're going to rip me to shreds, that last night was just a teensy morsel, a crumb, from the steaming banquet they're going to make of my body, that I'm to be owned and ruled – conquered – and right away, until I don't anymore know the English language.
What happened to that guy who used to be a top , for fuck's sake ? Total alpha male that I apparently was ? And what about Maxxie ? Isn't he more naturally suited to bottomhood as he several times told me (and has apparently forgotten) ? Especially considering that he's in possession of the world's most perfectly formed, smooth, round, tanned, luscious bubble butt ?
Oh my god.
Oh my sweet bleeding Christ.
I'm noticing his arse.
I'm noticing his arse.
That's it, then. The final sign, right ? That, holy motherfucking shit ... I am so totally gay, now, an out and out homo ... so far gone enough down this road, apparently, that there will be no turning back.
I swallow around the lump in my throat, processing this rather unnerving realization.
I blink.
Do I even wanna turn back ?
Would I actually choose that right now, I think, as I watch Maxxie lower that hot, sweet, brilliant mouth ...
As he makes contact, the two-letter word that forms the answer is standing tall in my mind; bold, glowing, capitalized, italics, in hugest font ... and like sex itself, universally understood.
.
I'm so excited, so badly wanting him I'm shaking, and have to force myself to slow down. There is something in Tony, of all people, that, inexplicably and in a huge way, is bringing out the top in me. I suppose it's simply that this new version of him is effectively a virgin, which is absolutely just so gorgeous and hot and wickedly delicious ... but I'll work that all out another time.
At the moment, somehow the gods have seen to it that I'm to lay here between his pale, sheet shrouded thighs, with Tony, stark naked underneath, helplessly looking on ... which only adds to the frisson.
I reach out a trembling hand, and with soft fingers, trace the male shape through the sheet, which, without thinking, I find myself prodding, leaning and rubbing my mouth and face into, which feels so base, so filthy and wicked, and which almost immediately causes the mildly faint outline to become more prominent ... which serves to provide me with a more clearly defined target, and then I can help myself not ... I toy with him ... flicking a finger, over and over, into the tip, sending miniature palpable shockwaves through his body.
Flick
Shiver
Flick
Moan
Flick
Curse
Flick
Writhe/moan/curse
Holy motherfucking christ, laying 'tween Tony's legs while you deliberately put him through the slow, sensual wringer ... ? How on earth is this actually happening, this thing I could do every remaining moment of my life ... that I would pay to, in fact ... that is, if it weren't for my suddenly rather active salivary glands.
I lean in low, tilt my mouth to the side, and meeting his gaze, promptly suck a ball inward, a practice I admit I find as natural as breathing ... and it doesn't seem to matter to Tony that it's indirect, that it's through the material – he squirms and writhes and gushes out hot, low, disbelieving moans, and does so again and again as I continue ... cupping and gently tugging one in hand, while the other gets the full suction treatment, and then swapping them out, or taking the two at once ... until he's writhing like a jellyfish, feet twisting about on the mattress behind me, face mashed sideways into the pillow, hands reaching out blindly.
Oh god, it will drive me mad, driving him mad.
Something just north catches my eye. The glorious tip, having swollen just enough to poke past the top of the sheet.
Holy sweet MOTHER I want that.
You've had it.
Can't possibly compare it to last night, which was strictly pedestrian – a direct path leading him to orgasm with no stops whatever for torment or window shopping.
Yes, we agree - as alluring a sight as there ever was, but shit calm down, Max. Do not scare him away. And fuck's sake, do not bite him here.
.
He leans up, and, along with me, simply looks at it. I want like mad in this moment to rip the sheets free, to throw him down and fuck the brains from him ... but feel somehow in the midst of complete sexual paralysis, or is it hypnosis ? Either way, something in me seems to need to let Maxxie take the lead; to, how did he put it ? Tell me what to do in bed.
Goddamit, I should be embarrassed, shouldn't I ? Mortified that Maxxie, my best mate, knows these things about me, has in fact, so easily created these needs in me.
His face is mildly flushed, eyelids matching mine for weight, voice calm, gravelly.
"I'm only allowed to lick what's exposed," he has the nerve to say, eyes twinkling with randy mischief, licking his own lips and not waiting for my response ... head instead, lowering quick, and then ... ohgod ... oh sweet mother of jesus ... warm and wet and strong, lapping directly into what I now recognize as the epicenter of Cock – the meeting place of seam, ridge and slit, the geography of which, of course, Maxxie knows by heart ...
How could I possible be this lucky ? That the first sex partner I have, and I'm right now actually praying it will be the last, is a human bloody dynamo, a steaming sensual cyclone, causing me to wriggle about shamelessly on the bed, so much so that he has to hold my hips in place with both hands, which, really, is just so embarrassing ... but then, I don't have time to think about it, do I ? I'm wound so tight, I'm so on edge, that every second that tongue makes contact - and I'm not even inside his mouth - a two trillion volt current is shooting up my spine.
"Only what's exposed," I hear him repeat, as if I can stand to hear more ... and then he stops, allowing me a moment to breathe, probably afraid I'll otherwise expire ... and when I look at him, with the plan, I suppose, of pleading for mercy, there are his eyes focused downward still, absolutely suffused with want, and as I follow their line ... yes, shit, sure enough, more of me is ... my poor tormented cock having swollen and grown, reaching for his mouth like a seedling toward the sun.
I lay my head back. I can't bloody watch. And, expecting warm and wet, I feel instead, the soft underpad of his thumb, gently caressing veins, seam, the edges of the ridge ... back and forth, here, back and forth ... and it's nearly unbearable, I may quite possibly die, after all, ... and then the evil bastard speaks.
"Right here," he whispers, fingering the sensitive join, "I'm gonna make tight, wet circles with my tongue."
Mmhghhhh ! So help me god, I'm with a bloody witch ! A wild, raving sexual lunatic.
He continues, voice steady and slow.
"And tease you for a while ... maybe a long while ... would you want that ?"
ARGHGHHHH ! AS IF I COULD SPEAK RIGHT NOW !
"And then I'm gonna take you in my mouth, Tone ... and it won't be long from there, will it ?"
AS IF I COULD ANSWER WITH ANY SEMBLANCE OF A SINGLE SOLITARY SPECK OF DIGNITY !
"And then we'll be down to four."
NO ... NO ...
NOT POSSIBLE ... NOT POSSIBLE-
The words catch in my throat, or mind, rather, for he's right away making good on his promise ... or is it threat ? That devil tongue conspiring against me and swirling in small, spiraling concentric circles, and just as I'm helplessly slipping down the funnel ...
.
... I take it for the first time from it's resting point against his body, and in one smooth motion, swallow the world's most beautifully formed piece of human anatomy ... digging into the slit, savouring sea salt, swiveling slow ... slow ... humming out low, vibrating moans in my throat ... clutching softly pleading, softly bucking hips in a failed attempt to keep them still ... and, as promised, very shortly thereafter ... quietly pulling the orgasm from him ... and holding him through the after-tremors until he flops, weightless and wasted, to the bed.
.